If he’d been wealthy there would be a queue twenty miles long!On the drive up to Heathrow to meet him, I’d become philosophical; reminding myself ... was now a thirty-something widowed librarian; who had an opportunity to repair the rift there’d been with my father. I’d wanted things to be normal between us but then seeing him walk towards me in arrivals; that special something rose within me, and I wanted him.Now he cautiously sits next to me on the sofa saying. “Is there something I should know. I’m the infamous serial killer, who for three years has been painting blood across the city, leaving no trace of herself for police to have any leads. These are killings that have no rhyme or reason, and I’m not really trying to send any message. There is a sickness in my mind that I’ve had for my whole life. At first it was confusing and hard to deal with, as the urges were uncontrollable. No, I didn’t kill just to kill. It goes somewhat like this: I’m walking down the street, minding my own. More

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